"You stay here, and I
will send a man to see him."
"If you just let him 'lone, he'll sleep it off," volunteered Billy.
"He's that way all the time, but he wakes up and gets us something to
eat after awhile. Only waitin' twists you up inside pretty bad."
The boy wore no air of complaint. He was merely stating facts.
Wesley Sinton looked intently at Billy. "Are you twisted up inside now?"
he asked.
Billy laid a grimy hand on the region of his stomach and the filthy
little waist sank close to the backbone. "Bet yer life, boss," he said
cheerfully.
"How long have you been twisted?" asked Sinton.
Billy appealed to the others. "When was it we had the stuff on the
bridge?"
"Yesterday morning," said the girl.
"Is that all gone?" asked Sinton.
"She went and told us to take it home," said Billy ruefully, "and 'cos
she said to, we took it. Pa had come back, he was drinking some more,
and he ate a lot of it--almost the whole thing, and it made him sick as
a dog, and he went and wasted all of it. Then he got drunk some more,
and now he's asleep again. We didn't get hardly none."
"You children sit on the steps until the man comes," said Sinton. "I'll
send you some things to eat with him. What's your name, sonny?"
"Billy," said the boy.
"Well, Billy, I guess you better come with me. I'll take care of him,"
Sinton promised the others. He reached a hand to Billy.
"I ain't no baby, I'm a boy!" said Billy, as he shuffled along beside
Sinton, taking a kick at every movable object without regard to his
battered toes.
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